


the things you do to me (you know them too well)

by Catherines_Collections



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Intimacy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ryan is such a frat boy oh my gosh, Ryan's trying his best, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane's helping him get there, Vague Getting Togethers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherines_Collections/pseuds/Catherines_Collections
Summary: He thinks maybe it won’t last, tries not to think too much about the risk their both taking, but he’s going to enjoy it while it does.





	the things you do to me (you know them too well)

**Author's Note:**

> This is titled in my docs as 'feelings are hard BFU' and if that isn't a good summary of this story I don't know what to tell you. Also, I cannot believe i wrote this. 
> 
> I locked this for two reasons: one, this is not necessarily something i want to risk being seen in a Buzzfeed video. Ever. No matter how low the risk. I'm super paranoid, Okay? Second, I am nearly 90% Shane Madej reads fanfic and I am Not risking it.
> 
> So, i hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I own nothing, obviously & this is based off the Richard Siken quote: 
> 
>  
> 
> you’re trembling, but he reaches over and  
> he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

It starts in details, and begins in the background.

In Ryan noticing how Shane takes his tea, in Shane adding references just for Ryan, in trying to hide laughter during someone else's story because one of them sent the other a meme.

It echoes in drinking at the bar closest to work together at a usual time on Thursdays, with or without the company of other co-workers. It starts in caring through the cracks and filling holes in the distance neither of them noticed or thought to fill.

It begins quietly, progresses slowly, and when Ryan finally does take the time to notice, he wonders for just how long it’s been going.

He wonders just how long he’s let the thing between them build up, wonders just how long it will take to consume the parts and pieces of him left: wonders if Shane feels it too.

He doesn’t know how to feel about any of it.  


.  


He thinks it starts, the physical aspect of it at least, on the Queen Mary.

Ryan is buzzing out of his skin almost the entire night, interpreting every wind gust as a whisper, awaiting some kind of delayed revenge.

Shane laughs nearly the entire trip.

“You, my friend,” Shane starts, directing the camera at Ryan, laughing harder when he sticks his tongue out and frowns, “are delusional.”

Ryan scoffs, tries his best to ignore the heat radiating off Shane, ignore how close he is, and instead focuses on the camera and how it’s practically an inch from his face. He pushes it away, and Shane sighs.

“Believe what you want,” Ryan says, ears perking and head tilting upwards, attention focused on a creek from above them on the main deck, “but I know what I saw.”

He can practically feel Shane’s smile behind him.

“Okay, sure, we’ll go with that.” Shane concedes, tilts his camera up to where Ryan is looking, “A gust of wind then?”

Shane’s closer behind him now, can feel his breath over his shoulder, Shane’s hand brushing lightly over his own.

He elbows Shane in the stomach, smirking when he earns a groan.

A huff and then, “You’re a real son a bitch. You know that, Bergara?”

Ryan hums, echoes back Shane’s own words, “Okay, sure. We’ll go with that,” and takes a risk, keeps his other hand still, allowing it to brush against Shane’s with every step.

It’s worth it, he thinks, when Shane’s laughter echoes from behind them.  


.  


“Ryan Bergara,” Shane says, back in their room looking over footage, smiling, always smiling, and Ryan can’t breathe, “you are something else.”

And there’s a lot Ryan wants to say to that, but instead he settles with a smile, and places a hand over his heart.

“Thank you,” he says, watching Shane watch the footage, “I’m honored, truly.”

When Shane stands and walks away, Ryan laughs until he’s wheezing.

“Add that to the film!” Shane shouts, mimicking Ryan’s laugh from across the room.

Ryan throws a pillow at him.  


.  


When they get back home it doesn’t take long to film the Q&A for the Queen Mary. Shane comes over to help him set up, and it takes little less than an hour to film.

“You know,” Ryan starts, the cameras turned off, edges of the apartment dark where they were light only moments before. The distance between them narrowing with every second and ever-present thoughts nagging at the back of his mind, threatening to fill the rest of the area between them, “I don’t understand you. Like, at all.”

Shane throws his head back and laughs.

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding, still smiling and Ryan catches himself staring, “same here. On both ends.”

And Ryan doesn’t say, _do you feel it too?_ Doesn’t say, _did you see any of this coming?_ Doesn’t ask, _what does any of this mean?_

Instead he wheezes out a laugh, and leads Shane out of his apartment.

When he locks the door behind him, he doesn’t let himself focus on how Shane lingered, or the sudden emptiness. He bites his lip and refuses to let them form the word burning on his tongue.  


.  


He doesn’t think about how close Shane shadows him in their videos, about how he lowers his hand just enough for Ryan to reach.

He doesn’t let himself think about what any of it could mean, or what he’s missing.  


.  


The first time it happens, it’s unexpected.

Ryan doesn’t know what triggers it. Whether it’s the familiar brushing of hands that evolves into something further, or the sliding of casual banter that morphs into something fiercer, something that suddenly makes the air around them difficult to take in.

The first time is messy and rough, bodies colliding and hands roaming, desperate and shaking, hungry for something neither of them can name yet. Desperation clinging like a shadow neither of them can see through, and Ryan’s not sure if they would even want to.

Shane touches him like he’s a holy thing, leaves bruises in an attempt to force otherwise forgotten memories, as if Ryan could forget any of this.

Shane places in mouth on Ryan’s neck with a gentle kind of reverence that has him yanking Shane’s hair, forcing his head forward, sighing when Shane hisses against his skin.

Ryan throws his head back and doesn’t let himself think of anything past Shane’s tongue, past the outdated bed set before them, past this moment and what any of it could come to mean.

Ryan falls back against the bed, and takes Shane with him.

And he thinks, in a way, it’s something he’s always done, taking and pulling and expecting Shane to follow where he leads. Whether it’s in creating, filming, or even here in some half memorable motel room. Ryan always turns back, waiting for Shane to follow along, and he always does. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

For a moment, their position is uncomfortable. Ryan’s knees are bent back against the bed post with Shane leaning over him, and the rest of the room does nothing to help.

The positioning of the bed digs into his back, and he half wonders, caught somewhere between the bliss of Shane’s mouth and the darkness of his room around them, if maybe they should stop this before it all becomes irredeemable.

But then Shane is pulling back, and suddenly he can see Shane’s face. Can see the bruised lips and messy hair and something far too frantic and nearly sacred in Shane’s eyes, and he knows what ever line they ever had between them has been crossed twenty times over.

“Jesus,” Shane pants, clawing at him wherever he can reach, and Ryan follows suit, snapping his gaze up from Shane’s swollen lips, still avoiding the sharpness of his eyes, “you’re fucking beautiful.”

And the thing is, it’s a cheesy line, and he knows it, but it doesn’t stop his heart from racing or his thoughts from straight up emptying out of his mind when Shane dips down to kiss him and everything is heightened: every breath, every movement, and he falls into it. He kisses him like he’s a drowning man and, well, maybe he is.

He takes a breath, thinks about asking and doesn't, just wonders if Shane is too.  


.  


He thinks maybe it won’t last, tries not to think too much about the risk their both taking, but he’s going to enjoy it while it does.  


.  


When he wakes up, the bed is empty beside him. But then again, he hadn’t exactly expected Shane to stay. He didn’t invite him to, after all. Left it up to Shane to decide.

Ryan stands and gets up for work.  


.  


Work is interesting, to say the least. There’s a new rumor about some of their friends and it spreads across BuzzFeed like a wildfire.

He doesn’t think anything of it when he rolls up to Shane’s desk and ask, “So what’s up with everyone today?” the possible awkwardness of the situation forgotten to him.

He feels the worry melt from his shoulders when Shane turns around, nonplussed.

Shane shrugs, “People talk.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, leans back in his chair, asks, “And you don’t listen?”

Shane hums and in the silence, they both try to ignore the forced calmness to their movements. Ignore how Ryan’s careful to right himself in his chair so that he’s close but not too close; how when Shane twist to face him his muscles aren’t bunched as tight as his smile.

“No,” Shane offers, “not when it’s not important.”

Ryan scoffs, “So what makes something important then?”

Shane stares, looks away and purses his lips, lets the silence settle, doesn’t say _when you’re in it_ , but Ryan thinks he hears it anyway.

“Okay,” Ryan tries, voice cracking, trying not to think about what any of it means, what it could or what it does, and how Shane made no attempt at recovery, “okay, so you have a warped sense of importance, cool.”

Shane smiles, “Thought you would’ve figured that out the first time we went to a haunted house together. From the way you freaked out, I mean.”

Ryan groans but falls in closer, side pressed up against the desk, head landing on his hand, “You’re insane. I figured that one out pretty quickly.”

Shane laughs, light and airy, says, “Two peas in a pod, baby. You’re betting against yourself here!”

Ryan scoffs and bumps their chairs, shakes his head still smiling as he turns back to his computer.  


.  


The second time is softer, nearly hushed apart from quiet gasps, and strikingly intimate.

It happens somewhere between their arrival in Willow Creek and their scheduled hunt the next day.

It’s a quiet and quick transition, and desperation still covers them like a second skin, but it’s calmer this time, less frantic and taking comfort in the act of repetition.

It’s laughter between panted breathes, gasp interrupting airy cries of names, and quietly murmured words in hopes they won’t be remembered tomorrow.

It’s quiet in the aftermath, quick breaths slowing and racing heartbeats quieting. And then suddenly beside him Shane turns towards him, smiling and says, “Do you think the Devil floats?”

And it’s so absurd, all of it, everything that just happened and everything before that that has lead them to this point and the in between, so before he knows it Ryan’s wheezing a laugh, uncurling himself from his side of the bed. All of it becoming easier in six words and a breath.

He turns over, glances beside him and sees Shane’s already looking at him, inquisitive but smiling, and Ryan doesn’t let himself think any further than the moment.

When he pushes into Shane’s calf with his foot, leaving a bruise on his leg to rival his chest, he says, “You’re fucking insane,” priding himself when Shane’s own laughter starts to blend with his wheezes.

They laugh, curled into each other, more dependent than either would like to admit, and Ryan distantly wonders if things could stay like this forever.  


.  


When he wakes up he can already hear Shane’s showering in the bathroom.

He gets up and gets dressed. The cameras are already ready by the time Shane walks out.

 

.  


They don’t talk about it.

Not yet, not when the thing between them - is there even a thing? Is that the right word for all of this?  - is still so fresh and new: fragile. Too prone to break from a few wrong words or sudden recognition; too easy to fall apart when named.

Ryan hides behind his camera when they film, avoids meeting Shane’s eyes as much as possible unless Shane initiates it. It isn’t awkward, but it’s different.

 _It doesn’t have to be_ , he thinks, the thought in the back of his mind lodged between memories of the night before and reminding himself not to drop the camera in his right hand.

Shane still keeps his hand by Ryan’s, though.

It’s, in fewer words Ryan thinks, a start.  


.  


“Did you get the film for the Bigfoot episode?” Ryan asks, rolling over to Shane’s desk, watching as he pulls it up.

“I made sure to include some extra Big Foot animations, just for you!” Ryan adds, chuckling when Shane sighs.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” Shane says, smiling and shaking his head.

They’re in the office out in the open, and there are far too many people around for all of the different direction this conversation could go in, so Ryan returns with, “Well at least I drive.”

They both laugh when someone in the office whistles.  


.  


He thinks, _I want this to last._ Thinks, _what even is ‘this’?._

Ryan thinks, somewhere between Los Angeles and somewhere half-way across the country, _it’s worth it._  


.  


“Truth or dare,” Ryan asks, a mile away from his apartment, twenty away from Buzzfeed, more than a hundred from the Sallie house.

Shane smirks, sets his beer down on the counter of the local bar, enjoying himself and playing the part of the new-in-town tourist, “Dare.”

Ryan has liquor on his lips, something hungry in his heart, and too many unanswered questions in his mind, so when he says, “I dare you to kiss me,” he doesn’t try to take it back.

Shane huffs a laugh, grabs his beer for a drink, but he’s watching Ryan’s lips the whole time.

“You’re insane,” Shane says, shaking his head and changes the conversation.

They don’t spend much time in the bar after that. They call an Uber that takes them back to their motel, and Ryan watches Shane watch him the whole way.

They stumble back to their room, giggling and pushing at each other, and when they come to a stop at the end of their hallway, Ryan lets himself fall onto Shane with a light sigh.

It’s only for about ten seconds but it feels like an hour when Ryan finally tilts his head up to meet Shane’s gaze.

“You never did my dare,” he says, watching Shane, eyes following when his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“You’re insane,” Shane repeats.

“It’s in the job description.” Ryan says back, leaning closer, _fallingfallingfalling._

“Jesus, Bergara.” Shane says, and Ryan takes a breath, “The things you do to me.”

He’s still watching Ryan, pupils blown, and lip bitten. Ryan decides to take it as a sign.

Ryan leans up and Shane leans down, and when they meet in the middle Ryan lets himself sink.  


.  


Ryan doesn’t say, _I think this could be something._

But then he sees Shane, and thinks maybe he already knows it.  


.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comment and Kudos are much appreciated. I'm rhymesofblau on tumblr, if you wanna come talk to me about the Ghoul bois over there!


End file.
